


Dreams

by ClockworkDinosaur (orphan_account)



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, Probably the shortest fic I'm ever posting, Short, really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ClockworkDinosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Hatchworth having bad flashbacks to the war or being locked into the vault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

Robots don't have dreams.

That's what The Spine told Hatchworth when he first mentioned the horrible dream he'd had while in sleep mode the night before. Hatchworth frowned as The Spine waved his concerns off, only repeating himself as Hatchworth tried to tell him. He thought maybe The Spine would understand, maybe have advice for him. The silver automaton's flippant reply stung Hatchworth more than he thought it could.

Robots don't have dreams.

Hatchworth repeated that to himself as he sat in his room alone, the moon outside casting blue shadows around his quiet room. Maybe he couldn't dream, but the thought of going into sleep mode and confronting whatever memories would resurface terrified him more than he would ever tell. He simply stared at the wall, his knees tucked into his chest as his head leaned back against the wall.

Robots don't have dreams.

He repeated that to himself like a mantra, muttering it under his breath every so often when his core dipped into a lull, but even that couldn't keep him awake once his very gears and core begged for rest. That was the last thing he said that night as his eyes slipped closed without meaning to and his head rolled forward.

Robots don't have dreams.

When the sand from the desert scraped away at the bronze robot's face and the elephants charged with green fire in their eyes, he felt everything; the hot sand shifted beneath his feet as the copper elephants approached with heavy footfalls that shook the ground. Robots weren't normally built to feel, but Colonel Peter Walter was amazing at what he did. Robots weren't meant to remember, but Hatchworth still recalled with perfect clarity the feeling of being thrown to the ground by a metal tusk, the feeling of opening up his chest and letting his canon expand, the sight of blowing a massive hole in the elephant's copper hide. He will never forget the sight of the terrified, almost human face, half-glimpsed among the wreckage of the falling robotic animal.

Robots don't have dreams.

But Hatchworth knew without a doubt that robots do have nightmares.

 


End file.
